


We Live the Words [They Never Hear]

by onefootonego (startingXI)



Series: Glitter in the Dark [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, TW: Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingXI/pseuds/onefootonego
Summary: you can imagine the scene,alex staring down a certain death and sayingnot today





	We Live the Words [They Never Hear]

**Author's Note:**

> this piece runs in tandem with 
> 
> [rearrange the world [with clear eyes]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10575243)
> 
> reading that is not imperative, but it can't hurt. 
> 
> [title taken from break the fall - laura welsh]

you’re at work when it happens.

you’re not even aware there is a situation until after the fact and it’s kara calling your phone. which, god, when her name first used to start popping up, blood would run cold, your heart would stop, your mind would shift to alex, alex, alex. why else would kara be calling you?

turns out, there are many reasons kara will call you. adding an extra order of potstickers to the game night take out you’re picking up after work. asking quietly, quietly if you’ll come with her to the aquarium on your day off.  letting you know she’s sent a draft of a piece she’s writing on the responsibility of the media in a crisis, and could you please read it when you have a sec.

so when kara’s photo appears - her and you and alex smashed together on the couch, the first night you watched lily and stitch with them - your heart does not skip a beat. instead, you smile, you answer, holding phone between cheek and shoulder “hey kara,” you say “what’s up?”

you expect her to complain about snapper. or fumble out a question about her newly discovered sexuality. but this is none of that, this is a sharp inhalation and

“get here. now.”

and

“maggie, hurry.”

which tells you all you need to know really, in the same breath that it doesn’t tell you nearly enough. but god, god, you’ve never heard kara so ragged in so few words. you’ve never felt fear like this before, where the world has slowed, there’s a dull roaring in your ears because

_hurry_

sounds an awful lot like

“she may not make it.”

and the rabbit hole of thoughts you tumble down - alex’s lifeless body laid out on a table, an apartment you both basically share - a space she would never come back to, all the promises you’ve made, the firsts you wanted to have -

lost.

it takes all your strength to keep your head clear. to tell your captain this is a family emergency. to get on your bike and gun it, weaving through traffic, gun and badge still at your hip. you don’t care that you could get pulled over, or get hit. really, you don’t  feel like you’re in your body at all.

you feel,

outside of it somehow.

like someone else is using your hands to control the bike. like someone else is adjusting your helmet at the one red light you stop for.

you stagger into the deo.

you flash the badge specially created for you and the rushing in your ears is back. accompanied by the sudden urge to be sick, everywhere, all over the floor.

it only worsens when you see james.

he’s ashen, half out of his guardian armor, standing with winn and j’onn and lena.

“maggie,” he says, and all you can say in response is

“where is she?”

your own voice sounds foreign, cracked and small and more scared than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

_this_ , you think, _is why you didn’t let yourself fall in love._

because love is pain.

but never has it been a pain like this.

acute and agonizing - controlled wholly by the fear that you may lose that who you love most in the world.

“james,” you ask again, searching his eyes for some kind of answer “where, where’s alex?”

you watch him swallow and your legs give out.

he catches you,

of course he catches you, saying “medical, she’s in medical but maggie -“

you do not hear the rest of his sentence.

you’re running, staggering, towards medical. you don’t - you don’t even know if she’s alive, you just,

you need to see her,

you need to see her.

you see lucy first.

lucy who’s wearing an expression you - in this moment - can not comprehend.

“she’s over here.” lucy says and you’re following, you’re panic stricken and scared,

and,

and,

sick all over the floor.

_there’s so much blood._

you can barely see alex for the mass of deo grade doctors and nurses surrounding her.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. you swallow hard and stand up, looking away from lucy “sorry,” you mumble, but lucy shakes her head.

she stakes a step towards you “i get it.” she says

[later you’ll realize that she does, oh, lucy does get exactly how you’re feeling]

“i - there’s something i need you to do.” she says, and you’re staring at her, blinking because you’re not going anywhere.

you are rooted to this very spot until alex leaves that room -

one way, or the other.

except

“it’s kara.” lucy says “it’s kara, she was - she didn’t get to alex in time.”

and oh,

oh,

“where is she?” you ask, voice gravel.

“boxing.” is all lucy has to say.

you nod. you turn back to look at alex, you see a pale hand, you see clothing being cut away. you grip the windowsill and promise yourself you’re not going to be ill again. steeling yourself, you reach to your hip, you pull off your gun and badge.

you hold them in your hand for a moment, then look to lucy “can you -?” you start, you ask.

lucy takes them wordlessly.

you run a hand through you hair. you look at alex again,

you don’t want to leave this space. this is as close to her side as you’re allowed to get. you can’t - you

“i have her power of attorney.” you say, looking through the glass, but speaking to lucy.

“i know.” lucy says “i know where to find you.”

you nod once.

you take a breath.

you walk away, heading to the one space that kara uses to box.

a basement away, where there are stacks of concrete, are kept specifically for these moments. it’s a long, long way down.

you take the stairs - a habit you’ve picked up with alex as of late - and use the time to fumble your emotions together. with half the story from director lane you can only guess the agony that kara must be in, kara who works so hard to always, always, protect her sister. only to be slightly too late and result in,

this.

whatever this is.

you know she’s going to be torturing herself.

of course, you were not expecting kara to be doing that quite so literally.

you hear kara before you see her. a great,  agonizing scream that you will remember for the rest of your life. it echoes in the halls, void except for yourself.

half a second pause at the door, collecting as much of you as is possible, you walk in. there is concrete strewn across the floor. great chunks of it, broken and crumbling, each piece progressively more bloody than the last.

your eyes come to kara on her knees.

her shoulders are rounded, her arms in her lap and she’s crying. you can hear it, see it in the way her shoulders are shaking. you wonder how much of the blood you see is alex’s, and how much is kara’s.

“little danvers,” you say, gently and kara whips around.

her eyes are wide, there’s a streak of blood across her jaw.

you take a step towards her.

kara scrambles to her feet and you try not to notice the bloody handprints she leaves on the floor. you keep your hands low, you keep your words soft, you move slowly, purposefully, you broadcast your steps -

“kara,” you ask “can i look at your hands?”

you suspect that more her blood than alex’s at this point. you suspect kara’s blown out her powers and is punching concrete anyway.

she takes a step back, moving away from you.

and you recognize the burning desire to inflict more pain, you see the way her hands twitch, as if to close them into bloody fists.

you see, you understand,

you say “kara,” letting her catch on to her own name before you speak next “don’t keep punishing yourself.”

“why not?” kara asks, and god,

god,

she sounds so defeated, so broken.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“because alex wouldn’t want you to.” is all you have as a response.

you believe it’s true.

“if i had done my job alex could tell me that herself. instead she’s -” and kara pauses, her eyes glaze over, you’re not sure if she’s really present anymore.

you wish you could tell her that alex is going to be okay. that alex is going to make it.

but you don’t know.

so you can’t say.

instead, you take the last step forward and reach out for kara. her eyes flicker to you, to your hands,

she doesn’t step away from you.

so you take her wrists in your hands, and you feel her warm, too warm to be human, blood. it’s slick against your hands, but it doesn’t make your stomach turn.

instead,

you say quietly “let me,” because suddenly you need this, you need to look after her, you need to protect kara, even from herself.

you’re not losing two danvers’ today.

[you hope you’re not losing one, but…]

“kara, please.” and there is a half second wherein you feel her waver, where you feel her hesitation, this urge to deny herself some form of creature comforts.

it does not last.

she nods, she is leaning into you, and you’ve got her. you wrap an arm around her waist, you pull her close, it does not take all of you to hold kara up - but you give her that anyway.

focusing on kara does not wash out the panicked beating of your heart, but it gives the nervous, fear-filled energy a place to go.

“i’ve got you kara.” you say, quietly, gently as kara’s cries turn into choking, gasping sobs.

it takes less effort than you expected to guide kara out of this room - through the empty halls,

up, up, up

towards alex’s office.  it’s the only place you want to take kara. it’s the only place that could offer some sort of comfort to you both.

kara who needs it when, stepping out of the elevator she freezes,

she panics

“i-“ she says “i can’t - i can’t - her heart.”

and kara is struggling out of your grip, or she’s trying and you’re gentle, despite feeling sick “kara,” you say “kara it’s not her,” you remind “it’s you, you blew your powers out.”

“oh.” is all kara can say, collapsing into you again.

and all you can say to her, once you’re in the still and the silence of alex’s office is

“just breathe kara, i’ve got you.”

you’re not sure if she is breathing. there are tears streaming down her face and her eyes are lost and unfocused. kara stands stock still, even as you rock onto your toes to unclip the cape from her shoulders.

you feel her watch as you hold it, reverently, fold it neatly.

your shirt, her hands, are covered in blood and that, that’s what you want to take care of next. so your words are soft, but firm, enough to hook kara’s attention “i’ll be right back, okay?” you ask, you say.

you know where the nearest first aid kit is, you know exactly how long it will take for you to get to it, and get back.

but kara nods, and she looks a little woozy. she looks like there’s something threatening to claw its way out of her, so you take a step closer, you leave a hand by kara’s hip in case her legs suddenly give way.

“do you want to sit?” you offer, hoping kara says yes.

she does not say no.

so you are guiding kara into alex’s chair, you are squeezing her shoulder and saying words you’re sure are lost on kara. promising to be right back, promising to be quick.

you are not as quick as you’d like.

stepping out of alex’s office, you let out a long, choking breath. you are trying to hold it together, but you’ve never seen kara like this before - you’ve never seen alex that badly hurt. you’ve never -

“maggie,”

you look up, see vasquez walking your way.

they’re in a black deo issue tank top, a shoulder wrapped tight and their corresponding arm in a sling.

“were you-?” you start, stop, biting your lip, leaning against the wall - there is a haunted look in vasquez’s eyes that answers your question.

“she saved us.” vasquez says, coming to lean next to you against the wall “i don’t even know how she did it.” they continue “we were out of ammo, we had no weapons. and alex, she just -“

they pause,

you can imagine the scene,

alex staring down a certain death and saying

_not today_

“there were six of them, two of us.” vasquez says “it wasn’t a fair fight,” another pause “for them.”

and that makes you smile, haunting and pained, but of course. your girl is a badass. your girl is fearless and selfless and

“she’s a fighter.” vasquez says “she-“ they swallow hard “she’s going to make it.”

you nod, blink quickly “i kn-“ but you can’t say it, you’re still so afraid, still remembering all the blood “i hope.”

vasquez reaches out with their good hand “she will.”

and their confidence helps you.

helps you almost find a center, something like a sort of calm with which to get the first aid kit and go back to kara. she does not immediately notice your return, gaze caught by the photos lined on alex’s desk.

they make your heart ache.

you do not look at them long.

you look away,

you look to kara as you kneel in front of her. she has never looked so small, shoulders hunched, hands cradled against herself, legs shaking.

“this is going to hurt.” you warn.

kara’s reply is dark and self-loathing and a single word

“good.”

and you know she thinks she deserves this pain. you know that kara would rather be the one dead or dying.

you know this because you would trade places with alex in a heartbeat, if you could.

but you can not.

so all you can do is what she would want you to do: look after kara. clean her wounds.

you wash the blood off first, gauging kara’s muted reactions, apologizing when she can’t mask a flinch. you know this hurts.

kara’s hands are wrecked, muscle and bone and blood. you never thought you would have the stomach for this - yet here you are, wrapping kara’s hands as best you can. as slowly, as gently as you can.

the floor around you is littered with blood soaked gauze.

“are you hurting anywhere else?” you ask, so caught by kara’s hands, you hadn’t been able to check for any other injuries.

kara does not immediately answer, blinking back tears and biting her lip and you’re struck,

you’re struck because she looks so much like her sister, like alex when she’s trying not to cry.

you bring your fingers to kara’s chin. she lets you tilt her head until she’s meeting your gaze,

and god,

“you’re so like alex.” you breathe, wiping the stray tears from kara’s cheeks.

and kara, those words could shatter her if you didn’t pull her into a hug. pulling kara close because this is your family,

kara is your family, the little sister you lost when you were fourteen - you gained here and now.

she’s everything to you, and seeing kara in all of this anguish - you know kara expects you to blame her.

she’s supergirl. it’s her job to protect people. it’s her job to protect alex.

and this,

this is the part where you tell alex

“we’re only human.”

but,

well,

that doesn’t quite work here.

instead, you pull kara closer, you coax the tears from her even as your own are falling. you’re saying “i know, i know.” because you get it,

you’re scared too.

scared to imagine what a life without alex would be like. scared because you’ve felt that fear before,

but never like this.

never where there’s nothing you can do. where what’s best for alex is letting the doctors do their jobs. where there is no one you can break out of prison,  no one you can interrogate,

nothing,

but this.

holding kara, feeling kara press herself against you, gripping you tight, tighter. but not nearly tight enough.

you don’t try and stop your own tears. it would be a futile exercise even if you did. every beat of your heart is an echo of how scared you are,

how desperately you need alex to survive.

and then,

then the door is opening,

and you’re stiffening, you’re placing yourself between kara and the door because kara is powerless, and kara’s hands are probably broken,

and you don’t know who’s coming.

who wants something from her.

you ready for the worst,

but are utterly unprepared when lucy steps in.

“it’s alex,” she says, and you’re mouth goes dry, you reach out and put a hand on alex’s desk to steady yourself.

“is she-“ you start, but you don’t have the words to finish that sentence. you’re trying to read lucy’s face, trying to understand what her expression is saying,

but you can’t,

you’re getting nothing.

“lucy,” you beg.

“they think she’s going to make it.” lucy says, something like a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth “she’s out of surgery.”

it’s something.

it’s kara sagging, and you catching her.

and there’s lucy trying to coax kara to get sun, but you’re here, you’ve got her, you understand.

“i’ve got you.” you promise her, “come on,” you say, a hand snaking around kara’s waist, “let’s get you to the lamps.”

the lamps lucy and james moved to alex’s room - because they knew there was no way in hell that kara was going to go anywhere but exactly where alex is.

and you,

you’re the same.

you’re not leaving alex’s side.

not for a long time.

but god, you round the corner into the quiet, darkened hallway. the one with j’onn standing, talking to a doctor outside alex’s room.

the one where you and kara walk in, together.

you thought you were ready,

prepared,

knew even, what to expect.

you did not.

you stop moving because alex is so pale, so small amidst the tubes and the wires and the machines.

“oh, ally.” you breathe, reaching for nothing, trying to stay upright, head spinning.

you don’t know what to do.

but then there’s kara. with her pained and broken hands, guiding you to sit. you feel lucy on your other side, coaxing you into walking with legs that don’t feel like yours. you don’t feel your own body - all you have is eyes fixed on alex.

small and pale and so, so close to death.

you reach out slowly, tentatively, and take one of alex’s hands. you hold it, feather light - like you do for kara on the days when the world is too much, too loud. you’re so gentle, careful not to disturb her, careful not to hurt her.

[she has a black eye, you note the small detail, you stare at her face, the contrast of the bruising against her skin]

some part of you registers that lucy has got kara up and under the sun lamps.

some part of you looks up, checks that kara is situated and safe.

some part of you nods at lucy.

lucy who looks like she wants to stay,

but doesn’t.

some part of you breaks.

pressing your forehead against the soft pillows, holding alex’s hand in yours and sobbing.

you can’t help it.

you don’t know what else to do. sit and wait and cry because you’re still,

you’re still so scared.

you were doing paperwork when alex was fighting aliens.

paperwork, while she nearly died.

you’re here now,

that’s what you try and focus on, you try and keep yourself to the present by talking, saying

“you promised me alex,” you swallow hard, speaking softer, barely able to handle the sound of your own, broken voice “you promised me a lifetime of firsts and i, i really, i need you to keep that promise. and i-“

you break again,

it’s too much, it’s too hard.

you’re aren’t sure how much time passes as you cry, as you stroke your thumb across the plane of alex’s hand.

“i love you alex,” you say quietly, “more than anything in the world. and i just,” you pause “i love you alex. i know you know, but you-“ you swallow hard “you gotta wake up because kara needs you.”

you think of kara brutalizing her hands, her body just to feel the pain in a physical way. kara who will carry the guilt of this forever.

“and i can’t look after her like you can.” you tell alex, because it’s true, you can only do so much “she needs her big sister, alex. she needs you.” pause, gasping breath, trembling lips pressed to the soft skin of alex’s barely exposed wrist “i need you.”

you do. you do.

and you add,

quietly,

a whisper

“i want to marry you alex.”

because you do, you do.

the doors slide open behind you and j’inn walks in, he’s got something in his hands,

something he slips over your shoulders as you sit up. a jacket, heavy and too big and leather - alex’s.

you pull it closer around you.

“there was lots of damage.” he says softly “internally, but she -“ he pauses “if she makes it through the next twenty-four hours, they think she’ll survive.”

and you know there will be a time for the specifics of alex’s injuries, but right now, right now you can barely keep your eyes open. you can barely register j’onn’s hand squeezing your shoulder.

you’re asleep before you now it.

wrapped in alex’s jacket.

—

what wakes you isn’t immediately clear.

it becomes more clear when you see the space between the sun lamps is empty.

and when you stand, slowly, and hear the soft rocking motions coming from the other side of the bed, you know. so you move slowly, you move carefully until you can see kara. until you see her knees pulled up to her chest. and you see her forehead pressed against her knees. and you see her hands, her fixed, healthy hands, keeping her body small.

you recognize this.

you remember kara and alex telling you about these moments - where the world is too much, and too loud -

although in this case you suspect it’s the sight of alex,

small and pale and still maybe dying.

so you kneel in front of her.

you shrug off the jacket j’onn gave you and say “kara,” before slipping it around her shoulders “can you look at me?”

kara doesn’t.

not at first. so you decide to sit next to her, you decide not to touch her, but to be close to her. you decide to say the words you need to hear - because chances are kara needs to hear them as well

“she’s going to be okay.” you whisper “alex is stronger than any of us. no offense.”

that draws a reaction from kara, a quiet “it’s true.”

which is something.

“then you know she’ll be okay.”

which, you barely believe. but you need to believe it - the alternative is -

“do you know why i became supergirl?” kara says, looking over at you, chin resting atop knees.

you think, remember “there was a plane.” you say “you saved it.”

“yeah,” kara agrees, pushing “but do you know why?”

“it had engine failure.” you remember that part, remember deciding you never needed fly again thank you very much.

but kara shakes her head “alex was on it.”

oh.

_oh._

of course. of course alex was on it. of course kara risked everything just to keep alex from dying.

“i became supergirl to save alex.” she says, looking at you, watching you “i-if she hadn’t been on that plane, i-“ you watch her shake her head, try again “when alex is in danger,” she starts again “she’s all that matters. you know?”

and oh, you do know.

you remember having to say, having to decree

_‘i have just as much to lose as you do.’_

just to be heard. just for kara to understand.

“because she, alex has been looking out for me since i got here. even when she didn’t want to, she still did it. because she loved me, because it’s what jerimiah wanted her to do. because without her i wouldn’t survive a week on this planet.” she takes a breath “i- she’s the reason i do it all, maggie. so i can be half the person she is.”

“kara,” you start, ready to tell kara just the kind of person she is, but you’re stopped.

kara shakes her head and keeps going

“you know how it feels to lose everything.” she says, her voice a little gentler now, and you wonder if she’s remembering the times you’ve spent talking about that,

those shared experiences of total loss.

“but i, when i got to this planet, i didn’t really realize what had happened. i was too preoccupied with not breaking the danvers’ glassware. it took years for me to really understand and when i realized,”

kara pauses, she closes her eyes, recalling a memory you think, seeing the way kara’s hands grip tighter around herself

“i was fifteen and i hadn’t seen my cousin since he dropped me off. i was bullied at school and alex had lost jerimiah. and maggie, it all hit me, one night just all at once, i didn’t have anyone. my people, all of my people were gone.”

you can not imagine what losing all of humanity would feel like. the devastation of being kicked out, infinitely compounded.

“because clark, he sees himself as more human than kryptonian. he always has. and back then i barely knew him. and i wanted to die. i didn’t want to be on earth. i tried to think of a hundred different ways i could just, disappear. but it was alex,” kara pauses and you’re caught in the weight of what she’s saying,

of what kara is telling you here and now.

you want to touch her, hold her,

but now is not the moment. kara isn’t ready for that.

“it was alex who gave me a reason to stay.” kara settles on, and you’re asking,

before you can stop yourself,

voice ragged

“what was it?” that reason that alex gave, the one that convinced kara to hold onto a lifetime of agony, and survive.

“she loved me.” kara says,

like that’s that.

“she - i had lost everyone. but gained alex. she promised she wasn’t going anywhere.” kara says, taking a deep breath “everything good i’ve ever done is because alex told me she didn’t want me to leave. it - that was enough, when i was fifteen and ready to just, fly away. bury myself somewhere. she asked me to stay. so i did. for her.“

it floors you.

the candor, and the depth that their relationship goes. you know, you’ve known, that you will probably never see another pair of people as bonded as kara and alex danvers are. you were sure of it before, and you’re sure of it now sitting with kara here. there’s a different weight in her words when she speaks next to her sisters recovering body.

a weight you’ve never felt.

“it’s why i can’t lose her maggie. i don’t know what i’d do without alex.” she says, looking over at you.

and you get it,

you can relate,

but never truly understand.

and that’s okay. you think it’s okay, because you’re sure that kara’s told that story, the one you just heard, to only a handful of people and now you’re one of them.

and you don’t always know the right thing to say.

but you sometimes know the right thing to do.

that, in this moment, is reach out, is find kara’s bandaged hand and take it in yours. it is to lace your fingers together in a silent promise of,

something.

of understanding you think, because that’s what you have now - the true understanding of kara. in a way you never have had before. it frames everything she’s ever done, and may ever do, in a different light.

kara shifts across the floor, pressing herself against you. you, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into your side and kissing her temple.

you sit there, ass numb, exhausted, with kara

for hours.

unwilling to move, especially after kara slumps and falls asleep - she, somehow curled in and across your lap. alex’s leather jacket pulled across her head. you put a hand on her thigh, protecting and when kara starts to whimper and she cries out alex’s name,

you’re there.

the first time you say

“shh, shh, kara it’s okay. you’re safe. alex is safe.”

the second, you say

“breathe with me kara, you didn’t hurt me. i’m okay. just breathe, that’s all you have to do.”

the third,

someone beats you to it.

a weak, but familiar voice

alex, croaking

“kara?”

and god,

you’ve never felt such relief.

**Author's Note:**

> come shout about supergirl with me @ [onefootone](https://www.onefootone.tumblr.com)
> 
> thank you to bathtimefunduck for letting me i was doing it right with the feedback "fuck you"


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